


Take my pain and turn it into gold

by badwolf_doctor



Series: Verse: Can't no preacherman save my soul [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen, M/M, Rook doesn't like talking about his tragic backstory, Rook has some weird ideas about home and family, Staci Pratt deserves the world, also some Rook introspection, and Rook will move heaven and earth to give it to him, but he can't say no to pratt, but he's working on his issues, for a killing machine he's so soft around Pratt, he'd literally do anything for him, some domestic fluff for my poor boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15115100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolf_doctor/pseuds/badwolf_doctor
Summary: Originally posted on tumblr. Rook tells Pratt the history of some of his more prominent scars.





	Take my pain and turn it into gold

**Author's Note:**

> My Deputy's name is Cade and he's a mess.  
> This is short and really self-indulgent, but I wanted to work out some of Cade's backstory.

Junior Deputy Cade Maza was never one to talk about his past. It was full of too much pain and hurt, and talking about it never did him any good; it couldn’t change what happened, all it did was cause more pain by dredging things up that should have been left buried. So, to him, it just wasn’t something to dwell on; keeping a lid on it was the only way he could keep himself from drowning in a sea of old hurts. But Staci Pratt had looked at him with those big hazel eyes, fingers brushing lightly against the old burn scar on his side and asked, “What happened here?” And damned if he didn’t open his mouth and spill his darkest secrets. Then again, he’d always been a sucker for a soft voice and gentle hands; especially when those two things belonged to Staci Pratt. Pratt had been through hell after the chopper crash, and the fact that he was here now with Rook was no small miracle, and Cade would do anything for him—even this.  
“I think I told you once that I spent some time abroad.” Pratt nodded and Cade shifted onto his side so that he could see Pratt better. He rarely let people see him like this, naked both physically and emotionally; vulnerable in every sense of the word. But Pratt was the exception to every rule. He was the first person Rook had spoken to about his military service. And after everything Jacob had put the both of them through, it was important to Rook to show Pratt that being vulnerable wasn’t necessarily being weak. “Think I also mentioned some of that time was spent in Afghanistan. Last trip out to the desert got cut short by an RPG. My buddies in the humvee were the lucky ones—dead before they knew what hit them. The two of us outside, weren’t so lucky. Don’t exactly know what killed Walker—the explosion, the elements, or his injuries but I ended up being the only survivor. It took…” he paused, blowing out a breath. “I don’t even know how long for someone to show up; trapped under a burning hunk of metal, going in and out of consciousness, it felt like an eternity. Once I was healed, I came back to the states. Looking for a quiet life.”  
And look how well that turned out, he didn’t add. Pratt was familiar with how fucked up their lives had become recently. With the Seeds out there snatching people up, killing and pillaging as they saw fit, it was like the wild fucking west out there. And lucky him, as far as law went, he was it; the person that carried the fate of the entire fucking county on their shoulders. Like he needed that kind of responsibility. Rook didn’t want to be a hero; he just wanted to protect the people he loved.

Pratt’s fingers traveled back up Rook’s chest, brushing across the dark lettering there; the physical manifestation of his chief sin. Rook knew better than anyone that John Seed had been right—he was wrathful. Sure, he hid it behind a smile most of the time, but he was a deeply angry person. Hudson had told him that he was the angriest person she’d ever met. And he couldn’t argue with her assessment. The tattoo wasn’t as red and raw as it had once been, a reminded that he too would heal in time, no matter how angry he was now.  
“Why pick Montana?” Pratt asked curiously. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added and Cade smiled fondly at him. “But of all the places you could go, why here? Why not go home?”

Home was a concept he’d never really understood, at least not as a place. People made a home and when they were gone, so too was home. Then, there was nothing to do but pack up, move on and try to find a new one. His first new home had been the army, and that had been enough, until it wasn’t.  
Rook shrugged. “Wasn’t really a home to go to. My mom ran off not long after I was born, don’t know why. The old man never really got over it; mean ol’ bastard used to get drunk and take it out on me. My Gran is the one who raised me; taught me everything she could and then told me to get off the Rez as soon as I could and to not look back—so I did. She spent some time in Montana when she was younger, found this cabin she loved; said it was the first place she’d ever felt at peace. She loved it so much she had a painting of it hanging over the fireplace. She wanted her ashes scattered there. So, I came up here to do that and found the cabin and land for sale. Seemed like a sign and a good place to start over.”  
He’d never considered himself a believer in signs, at least not until he came here. His Gran had once told him that he’d find his true home when he least expected it. And that’s what finding the cabin had felt like. Finding the job at the Sheriff’s office had felt right too. His first day of work, when Whitehorse had taken him into the office and introduced him to the others had felt like coming home after a lifetime away. And he wasn’t going to give up his life or anyone in it without a fight. Once the Seeds were good and dead—and God help him, he was going to kill them; make sure they suffered for every crime and indignity inflicted upon Hope County and its citizens—he was going to get back to his cabin; it wasn’t much but it was his. And when he went back, he was going to take Pratt with him; maybe they’d both find a little peace. God knows they deserved it. And there was no one he’d rather share that piece of heaven with than Pratt.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, all things considered.” Pratt said.

Rook smiled at him again. “No place that I’d rather be than with you—think the circumstances could be better, but it’s bearable as long as you’re here.” And it was true. 

Pratt’s smile was soft as he leaned up to kiss Cade. It was strange to think that in the middle of all this chaos, and pain, and death, that he’d found something like this—something worth fighting for. He’d heard once that a person could make it through anything as long as they had something worth fighting for and he finally understood the truth of it. Rook had been at the Sheriff’s department for almost 18 months before all of this had happened, and there had always been something between him and Staci. It had started as a rivalry but had quickly become an odd sort of friendship and then more. And now here they were.  
When they broke apart, Rook shifted onto his back and Pratt buried his face in the crook of Cade’s neck. Rook knew that he’d do anything if it meant keeping Pratt safe. He fell asleep listening to the sounds of Staci’s steady breathing, and for the first time in a long while, Rook was content.


End file.
